The Grief Of Gandalf The Grey
by Elf Eye
Summary: Gandalf grieves over the loss of Anomen. Part of "The Nameless One" series, which revolves around the character Anomen (Legolas).
1. Part 1

**Masha**** and Mo asked for a story in which Gandalf grieves for the loss of Anomen just as Legolas later grieves when Gandalf falls into the chasm of Moria. Masha, Mo, here is Part 1 of that story.**

**All you folks who were trying to figure out what 18th century novel I referred to in "The Tale Goes Ever On": Hey, I never said the fire in that novel was _in_ the library! I was assuming that you'd focus on a completely different aspect of the episode rather than the _location_ of the fire. I thought that the little detail of someone using his 'equipment' to put out a fire would kind of catch your attention! Apparently, all my readers were too virtuous to think about such a 'novel' use of that portion of a man's anatomy, hence everyone racking their brains to remember a fire that is specifically in a library! OK, here's the answer. In Jonathan Swift's _Gulliver's Travels_, while Gulliver is in the land of the Lilliputians, the _roof_ of a building catches on fire, and Gulliver 'hoses' it down, thereby saving the structure. Now, Jonathan Swift was an Anglican priest and the dean of a cathedral, so I figure, if _he_ can get away with writing a story like that, well, then so can I!**

**I'd like to thank the following reviewers of "The Tale Goes Ever On" right here. Since that story is supposed to be a one-shot, there might not be an additional chapter where I can acknowledge people's contributions. So, thanks to the following: _Andi__-Black, Doyle, Dragonfly, Farflung, Grumpy, Joee, Karri, Kelly Kragen, Mo, _and _Terreis_**

**Beta Reader for this story: _Dragonfly_, who caught a great number of errors and inconsistencies. Hannon le, mellon-nîn!**

**One final note: The italicized sections in today's story, where Gandalf is trying to put Anomen to sleep, are directly quoted from the Appendix to LOTR.**

**The Grief of Gandalf: Part 1**

"Please, Mithrandir."

"No."

"Pleeeease."

"No."

"Pleeeeeeee—"

"Anomen!" scolded Elrond. "Cease this badgering, for such behavior is unseemly. Mithrandir has said 'no' repeatedly. And stop looking at us with that wide-eyed, innocent expression of yours. You may wheedle pastries from the Cook in that fashion, but I am an elf lord and Mithrandir is a wizard, and neither of us will be swayed by such tactics. Now be off with you before you are late for your archery lesson. Woe unto you if you are, for then Lord Glorfindel shall be displeased. And I wouldn't try that expression on him, neither!"

Anomen knew from bitter experience that what Elrond said was true. Even his most winning expression would be wasted on the balrog-slayer. He hastened to the training fields to join Elladan and Elrohir, who had already taken several practice shots.

"You are lucky that Glorfindel is at the other end of the field," said Elladan as Anomen ran up. "Remember yesterday he said that if you were late one more time he would make you glue fletching on a thousand arrows."

Anomen shuddered. He did not greatly mind being set to polishing armor, but he did hate the smell of the glue used to bind feathers to shafts. Glorfindel had discovered his aversion to the task and was forever making use of the knowledge. Anomen hastily nocked three arrows and shot them simultaneously. Elrohir scowled at him. He had been bested at archery several times when Anomen had performed his trick of shooting off more than one arrow at once. Anomen paid him no mind, however, instead shooting off two more sets of three. By the time Glorfindel arrived at their end of the field, Anomen's target was peppered with shafts. The balrog-slayer nodded approvingly.

"Ah, you've been hard at work, Anomen. I am glad to see that you are not trying to rest on your laurels. It is true that you are naturally talented at archery, but that does not mean that it is not necessary to practice. Talent must be coupled with discipline, else too often the gift goes to waste."

"Perhaps," said Elrohir spitefully, "as Anomen is so talented, some day he will show _me_ how to shoot two or three arrows simultaneously, as he has just done three times in a row."

"Anomen," growled Glorfindel. "What have I told you about not completing your exercises? If I tell you I want you to draw and aim thirty times, that means thirty times. It does _not_ mean three arrows times ten!"

"Yes, Lord Glorfindel," said Anomen meekly.

"Go and fetch your arrows and start over again. When you have finished, report to the armory. I have a batch of arrows that need to be fletched."

"Yes, my Lord."

Glorfindel turned and strode away. Elrohir grinned, but his twin was indignant.

"Elrohir," exclaimed Elladan. "That was a rotten thing to do!"

Elrohir adopted a righteous pose.

"Why, Elladan! How can you say such a thing? You heard what Glorfindel said about the need for discipline. You wouldn't want Anomen to grow up to be less of an archer than he is capable of becoming?"

"Elrohir," retorted Elladan, "I hardly think skipping a few shots will have any effect in the long run, say, over the course of a thousand years."

"But," replied Elrohir smugly, "we wouldn't want him to make a habit of it, would we?"

Anomen was ignoring this conversation, instead concentrating on firing off his arrows as rapidly as he could without sacrificing accuracy. For Anomen, that was very rapidly indeed, and by the time Elladan and Elrohir had completed their archery exercises, so too had Anomen. He said nothing to either twin, but instead marched off in the direction of the Armory. Elladan ran after him.

"Anomen, I'll help you with the fletching."

"Lord Glorfindel will be angry."

"Glorfindel said that he had a batch of arrows that needed fletching. He didn't say that you were the _only_ one who could work on them."

Elrohir fumed as he watched his brother and foster-brother stroll off chatting amiably. He turned and ran for the Hall, making straight for his father's chamber. Reaching it, he could hardly wait to be told to enter after he had pounded upon the door. He burst in so abruptly that he banged the door against the wall. Elrond raised both eyebrows, as did Gandalf himself, and Glorfindel, who had just joined the others, turned to stare at the elfling.

"Lord Glorfindel," said Elrohir in a rush, "I am so sorry to report that not only has Anomen disobeyed you, but so has Elladan!" He turned to his father. "Ada, I think Anomen is a _bad_ influence on Elladan. _I_ think you ought to send him away!"

"You want me to send away Elladan?" said Elrond calmly.

"No! no! no! I want you to send away Anomen!"

"Because he is a bad influence on Elladan?"

"Yes!"

"Then I shall of course have to send you away as well. Where were you thinking of going? Any place in particular, or do you simply wish to be shown the gate?"

Elrohir gaped at his father for a minute and then blushed, the color traveling to the very tips of his ears. He looked down at the floor.

"Where are Anomen and Elladan at the moment?" asked Elrond.

"They are in the Armory fletching arrows," mumbled Elrohir.

"You should join them," said Glorfindel. "'Twill enable them to finish the task more quickly, don't you think?"

"Yes, Lord Glorfindel," muttered Elrohir, bowing and backing away toward the door, his eyes still downcast.

When he was gone, Elrond shook his head.

"I do believe that in the main Elrohir is fond of Anomen. I think if anything were to happen to him, he would be genuinely grieved. But sometimes he can be jealous because he believes that the recognition and affection once shared only between him and his twin must now be shared with Anomen as well. He does not understand that these things are boundless, so that the love and esteem lavished on one does not reduce that which may be lavished on another."

"Perhaps," mused Gandalf, "I should after all entertain Anomen's request to take him with me. Mayhap it would do Elrohir some good to spend some time without feeling that he must compete with Anomen for the love of his father and his twin."

"But it may be," warned Glorfindel, "that he will resent Anomen all the more when he returns."

"I do not think so," said Elrond thoughtfully. "Within a day after Anomen's departure, Elrohir will be restlessly roaming the Hall and lamenting his foster-brother's absence. In some ways, Anomen is more his kindred spirit than Elladan is, for they both have lively and inquisitive—not to mention mischievous!—dispositions. Elladan is the most staid and cautious of the three."

"So it is agreed, then? Anomen will accompany me on my journey to Isengard. It is only a short distance, after all, when compared to that which I cover on some of my travels."

"Yes," said Elrond. "It is agreed. Anomen will get his wish, and Elrohir will discover how much he has come to depend upon him."

When Elrohir learned that Anomen was leaving with Gandalf, he pretended not to care, but in fact he was badly shaken. Had his complaints against Anomen led his father to decide that he ought to send Anomen away after all? Was that why his friend was about to depart? And would he ever return? Gandalf said he would bring him back, but what if Anomen told the wizard that Elrohir had been so mean that he didn't want to come back? Elrohir knew that Anomen had stayed briefly at Isengard during his journey from Greenwood to Imladris and that Saruman had wanted Anomen to remain with him. When Anomen had insisted on continuing his journey, the Istar had told him that he would always be welcome at Orthanc. What if Anomen now were to take Saruman up on his offer? Would Elrohir ever see him again?

Adding to Elrohir's misery was the fact that Elladan shared the same fears that he did—and blamed Elrohir. Both elflings would have felt much better if they had known that Anomen had no intention of leaving for good. He loved Elrohir and Elladan and Arwen and Elrond—and, yes, Glorfindel and Erestor as well. But he also loved Gandalf and never felt as if the wizard stayed long enough for them to spend sufficient time together. Gandalf would arrive, remain a few days, determine that 'his' elfling was doing well, and then would depart once more on one of his journeys. It would be months before he would reappear, and he had warned Anomen that the time might come when years would pass between his visits to Imladris. Just as Gandalf felt that Anomen was 'his' elfling, so, too, Anomen believed Gandalf to be 'his' wizard. Given that, the elfling thought that the present state of affairs was simply unacceptable. He was convinced, however, that if only he could accompany Gandalf on his travels from time to time, then all would be well. But the thought that he would not return to Rivendell had never entered his mind.

Several days later an ecstatic elfling sat before Gandalf as they rode away from the Last Homely House west of the mountains. They were of course making for Isengard. Normally, Anomen would not be happy at the thought of journeying to that place, for he had taken an instinctive dislike to Saruman when he had first encountered that wizard. However, this time he felt no apprehension, for was he not with Gandalf, his very own wizard? The Grey Wanderer was proof against all perils.

Anomen could be very, very quiet, a skill that he had often used to good effect, for no elfling could slip in and out of a room with as much stealth as he. On this trip, however, from the very outset he was so excited that he gabbled on and on without giving the appearance of stopping for breath. Day after day, from the moment he arose to the moment he fell asleep, he peppered the wizard with questions. Gandalf sometimes found himself quite dizzy as he tried to answer all Anomen's questions. As they drew near Isengard, Anomen was chattering unabated.

"Mithrandir, why do birds have different plumage?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why can't all birds have the same color feathers? Why do some have brown feathers, some yellow, some red, and some blue?"

"I suppose the plumage helps the birds tell each other apart."

"But why should that matter?"

"They have to mate, Anomen."

"But why can't a bird with red feathers mate with one that has blue feathers?"

"Because much more is involved than feathers. Birds differ in many features, not just in their plumage. Have you noticed how short and thick is the beak of the redpoll, whilst the bill of the hummingbird is long and slender. Have you ever wondered why that is, Anomen?"

Anomen allowed as how he hadn't.

"Well, think on it now, Anomen. You have seen the redpoll feed, have you not?"

"Oh, yes, it feeds upon seeds."

"Does it eat each seed whole?"

"No, generally it breaks open the husk of the seed, just as we crack the shell of a nut to get at the meat inside."

"Do you think the redpoll could manage to do so if it sported the long slender bill of a hummingbird?"

Anomen laughed.

"Of course not."

"So the redpoll is suited to eating seeds, and the hummingbird—"

"—is suited to sipping nectar!"

"Egg-zactly, Anomen."

The elfling giggled but then grew serious.

"I suppose," he mused, "that if a redpoll mated with a hummingbird, their nestling would end up with half a thick beak, half a thin one, and then he could neither crack seeds nor sip nectar."

"That's the general idea, Anomen, although you may be a bit off on the specifics. In fact, such a mating would be unlikely to result in any offspring at all. Such unions are rarely fertile. But even should the mismatched pair succeed in bringing forth offspring, those young are unlikely to be able to breed any offspring of their own. Fortunately, such pairings are uncommon. Birds have different plumages and different songs, and they keep to different parts of the terrain—some preferring to nest in the brush, others in the marshes, others in trees of one species or another. Birds are rarely confused as to whom they can tryst with."

Anomen fell silent after this explanation, and Gandalf congratulated himself on having finally put to rest all the elfling's questions. Apparently, however, Anomen was simply preparing a new set.

"Mithrandir," he said suddenly. "Are Men and Elves different sorts of birds?"

Gandalf sighed.

"Every wizard should have an elfling in his care," he muttered to himself, "to teach him the meaning of the word!"

Aloud he said, "How do you mean?"

"Well, Elves and Men don't have different plumage, but they don't look quite the same."

"True, but just barely. Elves tend, on average, to be taller and thinner than humans; however, there are quite a few humans who are just as tall and thin as any Elf. The only certain difference is in the ears."

"I was wondering, then, whether an Elf could espouse a human."

"You have not been paying attention to the genealogy of your foster-family if you ask such a question. Why do you suppose Elrond is called 'Peredhil', half-elven?"

"Oh, yes, of course. So Elves and humans may mate?"

"Certainly. It is not all that common, but there have been several instances over the millennia."

"But why may Elves and humans mate if different birds may not?"

"Certain superficial physical differences do not turn two creatures into different species. In my journeys amongst Men, I have seen many breeds of dogs who differ radically in appearance, much more than any one Elf differs from any Man, yet these dogs can breed—indeed, they assuredly will unless they are prevented! An Elf and a human have at least as much in common as a hound does with a spaniel! True, their customs differ so much that they rarely espouse one another, but they could if they were so inclined."

"Does that mean," said Anomen slowly, "that Elves are also akin to Orcs? Erestor says that there be half-goblins compounded of Men and Orcs. If Orcs can breed with Men, and Men can breed with Elves, then could Elves breed with Orcs? Is there no more difference then between an Elf and an Orc than the difference between a hound and a spaniel?"

"There is a very great difference between an Elf and an Orc. Those half-goblins have been brought about by unnatural meddling! I do not doubt but that the hand of the Dark Lord is behind the matings that have produced such creatures, for Goblins and Men abhor one another, and the half-goblins that result from their intercourse are not fertile. Half-goblin does not breed with half-goblin, so the next generation of half-goblins must be produced by breeding anew Men and Orcs."

Anomen was much relieved. He was not much troubled at the thought that he might be akin to Men like the Rangers who from time to time visited Rivendell, but he did not want to believe that he had anything in common with an Orc!

Anomen fell silent for so long that this time Gandalf was certain that the elfling's curiosity had at last been satisfied. Suddenly, however, Anomen launched an entirely new round of inquiry.

"Mithrandir," he said, "Erestor said something puzzling about the geography of ardhon."

"Goodness!" thought Gandalf to himself. "This elfling is curious about everything from astronomy to zoology and all that is in between! It is lucky I am a wizard, else I do not know what I should do with the lad."

Aloud he growled, "Is there no end to your questions!?"

"No," replied Anomen with an endearing frankness. "I have quite a few more besides this one. Erestor says that it can be demonstrated that the ardhon is as round as an apple, but I do not understand his reasons for believing so. Can you explain?"

"Nothing simpler!" declared Gandalf confidently, relieved that the question was not more complicated. "There are several ways of telling that the earth is round. First of all, if you travel far enough south, you will no longer see the Forodêl, the Star of the North, around which the heavens seem to revolve. In fact, you will not see any familiar stars at all if you go far enough south. You will encounter an entirely different set of elenath, and in their midst a fixed star around which these new constellations will seem to revolve. Now, as you made that journey from north to south, you will have noticed the following interesting phenomenon. Choose a star. Each night, at the same time, measure its degree of inclination above the surface of the earth. The further south you travel, the lower the degree. A star may be observed at a position of fifty degrees above the horizon. Travel further south, it will be observed at forty degrees. Travel yet further south, and the star will sink to thirty degrees. Travel far enough south, and the star will at last sink so low in the sky as to be invisible—and the southern stars will begin to appear in its place. If you were traveling over the surface of a globe, these observations would be perfectly understandable. I have never tried it myself, but it is reasonable to assume that if a man were able to take passage on a ship whose captain meant to search out the world, he might go thereby all about the world."

"All about the gardh," gasped Anomen. "And he would return again to his starting point?"

"Yes, indeed," said Gandalf. "In fact, I have heard tell that upon a time such a journey was accomplished. A worthy man departed from Minas Tirith out of a desire to explore the world. He set out in one direction and never wavered from his path. So long and so far he traveled by sea and land that at last he came to a place where he heard Men speak his own language. At first he could not believe that he had come again to his own country, and he turned back to retrace his steps. 'Twould have cost him much painful labor had he persevered in his intention! Fortunately, a fellow who knew him haled him and greeted him fair, and then he realized that he was home and had in truth traveled all the way around the globe of the ardhon."

Gandalf thought he had done an admirable job of explaining matters. Anomen, however, considered but then shook his head, unconvinced.

"But if the ardhon is round, why then does its surface look flat when one is on a plain?"

Gandalf groaned to himself but gamely tried again.

"Anomen, the earth is so immense that its curving is imperceptible under most circumstances. But if you ever journey to the shores of the ocean, you will observe something that will convince you of its roundness. If you stand on a shore watching a boat sail away from the coast, you will see a singular sight. After the ship has sailed a very great distance, you will see the sail, but not the hull. Let the ship said a little further, and the lowest edge of the sail will disappear. Little by little the sail will vanish until you see only the very topmost bit. Then that, too, will disappear. If one were simple minded, one might think that the boat had fallen of the edge of the earth! Yet, it is known that, the journey over, the boat will return to port. At first all you will see is that topmost bit that was the last portion of the boat to vanish. Then you will see a larger portion of the sail. Little by little, more and more of the sail will reappear, and at last you will be able to see the hull. This phenomenon would occur only if the earth were round like a ball."

Anomen pondered this idea for awhile.

"Mithrandir," he said at last, his forehead wrinkled in token of the intensity of his thoughts, "are we standing upside down or right side up?"

"How do you mean?"

"We-ell, one point on a ball has an opposite point on the other side, isn't that so?"

"True."

"So if one person were standing at one point, and another person standing at the opposite point, wouldn't one of them have to be standing upside down?"

"I am not sure that 'upside down' has any meaning in such a situation. Wherever you be, you are right side up at that point. The only 'down' would be the direction between your feet and the point at the very center of the ball. If that weren't true, one of the individuals would fall off the earth into the heavens!"

"That's another thing, Mithrandir. Why _doesn't_ one fall off? If I held a pebble to the underside of a ball, the minute I let go of it, it would fall into the dirt."

"Some force seems to hold people and animals and objects upon the earth. Haven't you noticed that things will naturally stay put on the earth unless they are disturbed or you exert some force to move them away from the earth? A rock will naturally roll downward, but I have never yet seen a rock roll uphill—without the intercession of a wizard, that is. I did once arrange an uphill avalanche one night when I was being excessively troubled by Trolls who were flinging boulders upon my head. In the normal course of events, however, that sort of thing does not happen. As soon as an object is securely settled upon the earth, it stays put."

"Mithrandir, if the gardh is round, then why—"

"Goodness!" exclaimed Gandalf. "Will you never be satisfied!?"

Perplexed, Anomen twisted about to stare at the wizard.

"No, I won't," he said innocently. "Was I supposed to be?"

"Of course not," said the wizard, chastened. "But you cannot expect to have all your questions answered all at once. I think you would weary a Vala himself with all these queries, and I am only a Maia. You don't suppose you'd like to take a nap, do you?"

"A nap!" exclaimed Anomen indignantly. "I am no laes!"

"Thank heavens for that! Nappies are the last things I want to worry about at the moment."

"Mithrandir! It has been decades since I wore nappies!"

"Praise the Valar! Would you like me to sing you a lullaby?"

"Mi-thran-dir!"

"No? Would you like me to tell you a story then—a grown-up story?"

"Yes, if it _is_ a grown-up story."

"It will indeed be a grown-up story," Gandalf slyly assured him. He commenced. _"These are the names of the Kings and Queens of Númenor,"_ the wizard declaimed. _"Elros-Tar-Minyatur, Vardamir, Tar-Amandil, Tar-Elendil, Tar-Meneldur, Tar-Aldarion, Tar-Ancalimë (the first Ruling Queen), Tar-Anárion, Tar-Súrion, Tar-Telperiën (the second Queen), Tar-Minastir, Tar-Ciryatan, Tar-Atanamir the Great, Tar-Ancalimon, Tar-Telemmaitë, Tar-Vanimeldë (the third Queen), Tar-Alcarin, Tar-Calmacil."_

Anomen's eyes had begun to glaze over. He blinked and shook his head. Gandalf smiled to himself.

_"After Calmacil,"_ continued the wizard, _"the Kings took the sceptre in the names of the Númenorean (or Adûnaic) tongue: Ar-Adûnakhôr, Ar-Zimrathôn, Ar-Sakalthôr, Ar-Gimilzôr, Ar-Inziladûn. Inziladûn repented of the ways of the Kings and changed his name to Tar-Palantir 'The Far-sighted'. His daughter should have been the fourth Queen, Tar-Míriel, but the King's nephew usurped the sceptre and became Ar-Pharazôn the Golden, last King of the Númenoreans."_

Anomen yawned.

"Tired?" said Gandalf. "Would you now like me to sing you a lullaby?"

"No!"

"Ah, so you still think you are old enough for this grown-up story. Very well."

At that, Anomen couldn't very well declare that he found the tale boring, and a smug Gandalf, confident that he was nearing success, once again launched into his stultifying recitation.

_"In the days of Tar-Elendil,"_ the wizard droned, _"the first ships of the Númenoreans came back to Middle-earth. His elder child was a daughter, Silmariën. Her son was Valandil, first of the Lords of the Andúnië in the west of the land, renowned for their friendship with the Eldar. From him were descended Amandil, the last lord, and his son Elendil the Tall."_

Gandalf felt Anomen sway, and he gripped him about the waist. With a sigh, the elfling settled back against the wizard, his head lolling from side to side until it finally came to rest against the wizard's arm.

"Hah, that's done for him," gloated the wizard. "That recitation will probably leave him unconscious for hours."

Gandalf was right. Head bobbing a little, Anomen was asleep when he and the wizard rode through the Ring of Isengard and approached the Tower of Orthanc. Saruman had received word of their coming and awaited them at the foot of the stairs that led into the Tower. Gandalf carefully slid off his horse with a still-sleeping Anomen in his arms. Most would have found the sight touching—the gruff, grizzled wizard cradling the youngling with all the gentleness of a maiden—but Saruman was not inclined to be tender-hearted. Indeed, he found the scene before him to be an irritating one.

"Sooo, Mithrandir," Saruman mused to himself, "you have taken on an apprentice, have you—and the very elfling who would not accept my offer of hospitality. Strange that the elfling should enter into the service of a lesser wizard when he would not enter into _mine_!"

Saruman was of course offended that Anomen had (he thought) accepted Gandalf's invitation after rejecting that of the White Wizard. Moreover, Saruman was not about to let himself be outdone by Gandalf on any level whatsoever. Of course, he did not truly grasp the sense in which the 'lesser' wizard had surpassed him. Saruman could think only in terms of possessing. People, buildings, objects: it was all one to him—things that he could possess. Gandalf seemed to have acquired a disciple, so Saruman must have one likewise—preferably the one Gandalf already 'owned'. He did not understand that Gandalf 'possessed' only Anomen's affection and respect—nothing less, nothing more.

Gandalf and Anomen stayed for several days at Isengard, and Saruman played the genial host. He was, however, always on the lookout for some means of prying Anomen away from Gandalf. At last that moment came as Gandalf discussed his plans for his next journey.

"After I have returned Anomen here to Imladris," the wizard said one night at dinner, "I will journey on to Lothlórien. I would speak with Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel."

Saruman professed concern. "But, Gandalf, my friend, Imladris is miles out of the way if you mean to make for Lothlórien in the end."

"True," agreed Gandalf, "but I promised Elrond that I would bring Anomen back before proceeding onward. The latest reports from the scouts do not favor Anomen's accompanying me on to Lórien, for it seems that there has been an increase in the number of goblins lurking about on the paths leading to that land. I would not want to expose a young one to danger unnecessarily."

"Ah, but instead of traveling all the way back to Imladris, why not leave Anomen here with me? I assure you that if you did, he would be well guarded."

Gandalf was delighted at this stroke of kindness on the part of Saruman.

"How very thoughtful of you, Saruman," he exclaimed. "But you are sure that you wouldn't mind?"

"Do not speak nonsense, Mithrandir. Of course I would not mind. I am sure that Anomen will pose no great problems—nothing that I couldn't manage, at any rate."

Anomen sat unable to speak. Gandalf had expressed such joy at Saruman's offer that the elfling knew it would be inconceivable for him to protest.

"Well, Anomen," said Gandalf jovially. "Are you forgetting your manners? What do you say to Lord Saruman?"

"Thank you, Lord Saruman," said Anomen dutifully, keeping his voice and face as neutral as possible.

"Say nothing of it, my lad," replied Saruman with hearty but forced cheerfulness. "I am sure that I shall enjoy keeping you here."

Gandalf thought nothing of either Saruman's awkward manner or Anomen's diffident one. Saruman was always a little stiff, and as for Anomen, Gandalf already knew that the elfling wished to accompany him all the way to Lothlórien. If Anomen did not seem pleased, it must be only because he was not to get his wish. Ai! Even a wizard can be obtuse upon occasion.


	2. Part 2

**_Mo: _No, thank _you_. I _really_ appreciate the suggestions that people give me for stories.**

**_Kitty:_ Gandalf won't give the news to Elrond until the next installment, soooo, you're going to have to remain in suspense. Mwah hah hah!**

**_Dragonfly:_ In a way, Saruman is the closest that Gandalf has to 'blood kin'. They are both Maia, both wizards, and both have been sent into a sort of exile in Middle-earth.**

**_K'lara7: _Yes, Gandalf never picks up on the clues until Saruman reveals his hand (pun intended!).**

**_Joee_****: That 'boring' story comes straight from the appendix to the LOTR, so I am being a bit cheeky, aren't I!?**

**_Karri: _You are correct. Things look bad for Anomen and his friends.**

**_Terreis: _****Yep, Saruman. Dum dum dum DUM (cue ominous music). As for Gandalf's answers, I should mention that in the section about the roundness of the earth, I was making liberal use of the medieval 'travel' narrative _Mandeville's Travels_, which is a really good piece of evidence that puts the lie to the old legend that Columbus had to convince his potential backers that the earth was round. Everybody who was anybody knew that the earth was round. Heck, the ancient Greeks knew the earth was round, for crying out loud!**

**_Andi_****_-Black: _You won't need those tissues very much just yet. But watch out for the cliff! (Mwah hah hah!)**

**Beta Reader: _Dragonfly_**

**The Grief of Gandalf the Grey: Part 2**

The moment Gandalf rode out through the Ring of Isengard, Saruman set about on his campaign to seduce Anomen into his service.

"Now, my dear boy," he began unctuously, "I want you to take delight in your stay here. I am sure Mithrandir must be very strict with you—he can be quite grim, can he not?—but you needn't fear—I will not have you do anything you don't like. Mithrandir has set you to studying each day, hasn't he?"

"No, my Lord."

"Anomen, you don't need to dissemble. I know that you have spent several hours each day in the library. It is a pity that Mithrandir is such a hard taskmaster."

"It is true, my Lord, that I have spent several hours each day in the library, but by choice. Mithrandir said that there were several volumes here that were not in the library of Imladris, and I begged him to point them out to me. They contain fascinating tales, my Lord, and I have been enjoying myself immensely whilst reading them!"

Saruman was, of course, exceptionally learnéd, perhaps even more so than Gandalf (although not by much!). The concept of reading for pleasure was, however, foreign to him. He read only to glean the knowledge with which to manipulate people and objects. Still, if Anomen wished to read, then read he would.

"Very well," Saruman said briskly. "You may spend as much time in the library as you desire." He began to think to himself what volumes he could point out to the elfling that would predispose him to remain at Isengard.

"Something about the power and grandeur of wizardry would be good, I think," he murmured to himself. "I can think of several volumes that might do."

Try as he might, however, the Lord of Isengard could not interest Anomen in those volumes that he would have preferred the elfling to read. Instead, Anomen had a most disconcerting preference for immersing himself in tales in which Elves and Men joined forces to drive back the forces of darkness.

"It is so grand, Lord Saruman," Anomen was enthusing one day over the noon meal, "how Elves and Men combined during the Last Alliance to defeat the evil Lord Sauron!"

Saruman tried to look interested while at the same time redirecting Anomen's thoughts to more sobering reflections.

"True, they did defeat Sauron, but mayhap the price was too high. Elendil and Gil-galad both perished in that battle, and Isildur did not long survive the victory. And for what? The power of Men dwindled until now few remnants of their glory remain. And your kinsfolk, Anomen, I fear that they have suffered from having cast their lot with Men. They would have done better to have stood aloof from those mortals."

"But if they had," Anomen protested, "then perchance Sauron would have triumphed."

"And what if he had, Anomen? Sauron, like the Elves, is an immortal. He is a greater being than any Man. Perhaps the Elves would have done well to have allied themselves with him."

Suddenly Saruman realized that he may have said too much. Things likely would go ill if Anomen repeated any of his words to Gandalf. The wizard forced himself to laugh.

"Of course, I speak merely hypothetically, as one who is a logician. It does grieve me, however, to see how the Elves have dwindled since they entered into that Last Alliance with Men. I would see the Fair Folk choose their friends wisely. I know that I for one shall always be eager to have them as allies. I hope that Elrond understands this."

"I am sure that he knows you are powerful, my Lord," replied Anomen. This answer struck Saruman as more than a little equivocal, as well it should have.

Since Saruman had failed to interest Anomen in the books that he wished the elfling to read, the Istar decided that it was time to herd him away from the library.

"Anomen," he said, "tomorrow the tapestries in the library are going to be removed for cleaning, as well as the carpets, and all the furniture is to be dusted and polished—aye, and the floor, too. It will be no fit place for you. You must accompany me on a ride in the environs of Isengard. You do like to ride, do you not?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Good. I will see that you are provided with a suitable mount."

"I did not know you kept a pony, my Lord."

"A pony? Oh, yes, of course."

Saruman remembered that Anomen had not arrived on a horse of his own but had ridden with Gandalf.

"No, I don't keep any ponies, but you may ride with me as you rode with Mithrandir."

"Oh, no," exclaimed Anomen. "I mean, no thank you, my Lord. I can keep my seat on a horse."

"Nonsense. I would not want you to come to any harm."

"Truly, my Lord, I have ridden horses many a time. I would very much like to demonstrate to you how skillful a rider I am. Please, my Lord."

Anomen looked so anxious that Saruman decided he had better give way. Besides, perhaps it was a good sign that the elfling wanted to prove that he was a good rider. Saruman flattered himself that it was because Anomen was desirous of earning his good opinion. Of course, it was nothing of the sort. For Anomen, sharing a horse with Gandalf was one thing, sharing a horse with Saruman quite another thing altogether! He had been thrilled to ride with Gandalf because it gave him an opportunity to endlessly badger the wizard with questions. With Saruman, however, he would have felt awkward. It was thus fortunate for Anomen that the Lord of Isengard had decided to humor the elfling.

Early the next morning, Istar and elfling rode out through the Ring of Isengard, Saruman mounted upon a grand stallion, for it pleased him to dominate a powerful being rather than a lesser creature. Anomen rode the smallest and most docile of the steeds kept in the stables of Isengard, but even so he was hard put to maintain control over the snorting beast, for the horses of Saruman were bred for viciousness. He almost wished that he had agreed to ride with Saruman. Perhaps Saruman guessed at his discomfort, for he smiled a trifle maliciously.

"Anomen, how does your mount please you?" he asked after awhile. "Surely the horses of Imladris are not as spirited!"

Anomen thought carefully before he answered.

"The horses of Elrond are as spirited. Body and soul, they do their utmost to serve their riders."

"How then are they spirited?" scoffed Saruman. "What you have described is servility, not spirit."

"No," protested Anomen. "Mithrandir has told me that one who freely aids another is not servile, for his actions are not constrained but come from a generosity of spirit."

Saruman smiled, but condescendingly.

"You should know that Mithrandir is my subordinate. No doubt his words reflect his desire to convince himself of his worthiness. Of course," the Istar added hastily, "I do not say that he is _un_worthy; pray do not mistake me!"

"I understand you perfectly," replied Anomen. His face was impassive, but something about his tone of voice both nettled the Istar and put him on the defensive.

"Do you doubt me, Anomen?" he said frostily.

Anomen was now on his guard as well.

"I am sure," he said cautiously, "that you believe in the truth of what you say."

This was not a satisfactory answer, and the two rode on in silence for a time. At last Anomen broke the silence, although what he said was not to Saruman's liking.

"Do you suppose," the elfling said hopefully, "that Mithrandir will be back soon? It seems to me that he has been gone a very long time!"

Saruman inclined his head slightly, but did not speak.

"Yes," he thought to himself, "Mithrandir has indeed been gone a long time, long enough, it seems to me, for this elfling to have benefited from my tutelage. Yet he shows no sign of developing an appreciation of what I have to offer. Either he is stupid or stubborn—or both!"

Becoming furious, Saruman decided that, if _he_ couldn't possess Anomen, then neither would Gandalf have him.

"The little brat has had his chance," the Istar raged to himself. "I have indulged him in every possible way, yet he is oblivious to the great favor that I have shown him."

Having tired of Anomen, Saruman did not wish to waste any more time on him. Instead, he would dispose of him as quickly as possible. The river Isen would do, the wizard decided. It had rained heavily in recent days, and the waters of the river were exceptionally swift and high.

"I need a witness," Saruman murmured to himself, "so that I may be free of any imputation of blame."

As soon as Saruman and Anomen had returned to Orthanc, Saruman dismissed Anomen to do as he pleased until the noon hour and summoned one of the most inoffensive of his servants, a man not so much wicked as stupid, and whose account of the matter would therefore be told with great sincerity.

"I am taking our young guest on another excursion, and we will eat our noon meal by the banks of the Isen," Saruman told this servant. "You will accompany us, to convey the hamper that shall be packed with food."

Anomen was pleased when Saruman told him that they would take their meal outdoors. After their awkward conversation during the morning ride, Anomen had not been looking forward to being closeted inside with the Istar. Now, as the elfling walked beside the wizard down to the banks of the Isen, he felt tolerably happy, although he still wished that Gandalf would return to Orthanc and whisk him back to Rivendell. He thought wistfully of the twins, especially Elrohir, and wondered what they had been doing during the past several weeks.

Saruman was of course very well acquainted with the banks of the Isen, including several perilous patches where loose rocks might roll under a heedless foot and cast the unwary person into the cold, rushing waters. It was only necessary for him to find a way to draw Anomen to one of those dangerous spots.

The servant lowered the hamper to the ground when directed to do so by Saruman, and the Istar rested his staff upon the hamper. Later, if he were ever asked why he had not saved Anomen, he would be able to say that his staff was not to hand. With Anomen at his side, he strolled toward the Isen, stopping well back from its edge. He stood silently, gazing upon the roiling waters. Anomen waited patiently for a time, but at last he grew restless.

"May I go closer?"

"Of course, my lad, but do not venture too near. The river is much too dangerous for a little fellow like you."

Saruman in his cunning knew that Anomen would now wish to get as close as possible to the edge of the river because the wizard had suggested that he was too small to do so.

In this one matter Saruman was wise—or at least shrewd. Anomen did indeed draw ever closer to the edge of the torrent. At last, just as Saruman had hoped, the elfling stepped on one of the more treacherous rocks. It tilted, and with a cry and a surprised look, Anomen tumbled into the raging water. Within seconds he had been dragged under and swept away.


	3. Part 3

**_Masha_****: O.K. Even if I do enjoy doling out stories in little cliffies, I'm not a _total_ sadist. So here is Part 3.**

**_Dragonfly: _Yeah, someone should at least introduce Saruman to the idea of recycling.**

**_Mo: _Oh, Anomen is going to be more than I little shaken up, I promise you.**

**_Karri: _He's a tough little blighter true, but this is going to be a near one.**

**_Joee_****: Alright. I'll see what I can do to extricate him from the peril in which he finds himself.  
  
** **Beta Reader: _Dragonfly_**

**The Grief of Gandalf the Grey: Part 3**

As Anomen was swept down the river, Saruman turned to the servant, who stood watching, his mouth agape.

"Hasten back to Isengard," he ordered, "and fetch back other servants so that a rescue may be effected."

Actually, Saruman was quite certain that what would take place would be not a rescue but rather the recovery of a body. And he did want that body recovered. He thought with glee of the coming scene: Gandalf being escorted into the room where the cold and stiff little body would be laid out. Delightful to contemplate!

As the servant scurried back to Orthanc, Anomen was trying to hold his breath and fight his way to the surface, but the water tumbled him about so that he could scarce tell which way was up. At last he could hold his breath no longer; he gasped and promptly swallowed a bellyful of water. With his lungs becoming starved for oxygen, he felt himself slipping away. The last thing he remembered was feeling regretful that he would not be able to tell Elrohir of his adventures.

Fortunately, although unaware of the fact, Anomen was of course a mammal. It is a peculiarity of some mammals, especially young ones, that when they fall into very cold water, they are subject to the 'mammalian diving reflex'. That is, their bodily functions slow to a crawl, thus preserving the oxygen needed to sustain life. So even though Anomen was unconscious and floating face down in the water, he had not in fact drowned. He was still very much alive, for his brain and his body had gone dormant so that every last remaining atom of oxygen was being conserved.

In this state the rushing water carried him down the Isen. Now, at the same time that he was being borne downstream, salmon were battling their way upstream to spawn. This was an event that took place annually, and it was of great interest to eagles, particularly the giant eagles, who would swoop down and pluck salmon out of the river the same way that lesser eagles will seize trout from a stream. Thus it happened that this very day Gwaihir and his kinsmen were soaring above the Isen as Anomen was being carried downstream by the torrent.

"Hul-lo!" thought Gwaihir to himself as he spied Anomen's limp body. "If _that's_ a salmon, then _I'm_ a woodpecker."

The eagle flew down to investigate, and seeing that it was an elfling, he plucked Anomen from the river and flew with him to his aerie. As soon as Anomen felt the air upon his face, he spluttered and gasped, vomited forth a great quantity of water, and began to breath again, albeit somewhat spasmodically. He was very dizzy and disoriented, of course, and when Gwaihir deposited him in the midst of the great pile of sticks at the tip-top of the tall tree in which he nested during the fishing season, all the elfling could do was sit there and blink owlishly at the great raptor. Fortunately Gwaihir did not notice the resemblance, for he was not above eating owl—particularly as there was one nearby who had been disturbing his rest each evening with his mournful hooting.

"You're not a fish, you know," said Gwaihir sternly. "You have no business going for a swim in such a fierce river."

Anomen could only gape at the great eagle, his mouth forming an 'o'. "Hmmm," mused the Wind-lord, "with his mouth open in that fashion, this elfling does in fact look rather fish-like."

However, Gwaihir had already dined quite well on salmon that day, so Anomen's resemblance to a fish merely struck the raptor as a curious fact, nothing more.

By now, Anomen had begun to shiver violently. As he was in no condition to explain who he was or how he had come to be in the river, Gwaihir could not very well return him to whatever elven nest he'd fallen out of. So the Wind-lord decided, sensibly enough, that for the time being he'd better treat Anomen as if he were one of his own nestlings. With his wing he swept Anomen beneath his body and he settled himself upon him as carefully as if the elfling had been an egg. No down duvet could have been warmer, and there let us leave our little Elf for the time being.

By the time Anomen was falling into a deep sleep in Gwaihir's nest, the searchers sent out by Saruman were returning to Isengard, where they reported to the Istar that they could find no sign of the body.

"The water is very fast, my Lord," said one timidly, "and he must have been borne by it far away long before we ever began our search."

Saruman sighed. "That is a great pity," said he as he thought regretfully that now he would never have the opportunity to observe Gandalf's face as he beheld his protégé stretched out cold and dead before him.

"Yes, my Lord," agreed the servant, still nervous. He needn't have feared, however. Even though the Istar was disappointed at not being able to put Anomen's body on display, he still congratulated himself, both because he had done away with Anomen so cleverly, at so little risk to himself, and because the elfling's death would grieve Saruman's unwitting rival. In his malice, Saruman was too gleeful to be overly irritated over the fact that Anomen's body was not to hand.

While Saruman was in such a perversely jovial mood, a servant brought him word that Gandalf the Grey was riding through the Ring of Isengard. Saruman hid all traces of glee and prepared himself to give Gandalf a welcome that the White Wizard trusted he would never forget.

"My dear friend," Saruman said solemnly as Gandalf entered his throne room and looked about for 'his' elfling. "My dear, dear friend. I hardly know how to break the news to you—indeed, I do not."

Saruman was rewarded by the look of fear that flashed across Gandalf's face.

"Where is Anomen?" the wizard said apprehensively.

"If only I had not set aside my staff," said Saruman. "If only the little one had not stubbornly ventured to the very brink of the Isen on a day when the water was so high and swift."

"Where-is-Anomen!?"

"Swept away by the Isen, my friend. Undoubtedly he was overwhelmed by the fury of the river and so incapable of battling his way to shore."

"No!"

"I at once sent a servant to summon help, my friend, but nothing could be done."

It was several minutes before Gandalf could speak. All the while Saruman enjoyed watching the emotions that swept across the face of the distraught wizard: disbelief, confusion, grief, guilt.

"'Tis better than any play," thought Saruman. He was immensely gratified at the effect the news was having upon the Grey Wizard.

At last Gandalf collected himself enough to speak.

"Where is his body? I would carry him back to Imladris."

"I am so sorry, Mithrandir," said Saruman. "I sent my servants miles down the channel, but they could find no trace of the little fellow. At least you can console yourself that he could not have suffered long. Likely he drowned within minutes or was dashed against a boulder and so lost consciousness. Even if he avoided those perils, the frigid waters of the Isen would have numbed him so that he would have felt little pain. You must allow yourself to be comforted by these thoughts."

But Gandalf was not comforted by such images. That entire night he paced back and forth, back and forth, his beard wet with tears.

"I should have returned him to Greenwood when first I found him," he berated himself. "Then at least he would still be alive. I should never have meddled. Never! It was arrogant of me, and the little one has paid the price for my willfulness and pride."

The next day, gaunt from a night of sleeplessness, Gandalf insisted on departing immediately without even breaking fast.

"I must ride to Imladris at once," he told Saruman.

Saruman's sorrow at seeing him go was genuine. The Lord of Isengard had looked forward to enjoying Gandalf's misery for several more days. He tried fruitlessly to persuade the wizard to remain for a few days at least.

"You look unwell, Mithrandir. You should not depart in this state."

"No! no! I cannot stay. Elrond must be told."

"You could dispatch a letter," suggested Saruman.

"No, I must tell him face to face. He will want to upbraid me, I am sure, and I will not avoid that which I deserve."

Although he hid it well, Saruman now was gloating once again. His disappointment at having his entertainment cut short by Gandalf's departure had been replaced by the realization that the death of Anomen might provide him with an unexpected benefit: perchance a wedge would be driven between Gandalf the Grey and his erstwhile ally, Elrond of Rivendell. Excellent!

Shoulders hunched, eyes sunken, face pale, Gandalf rode away from Orthanc. Gleefully, Saruman watched as Anomen's friend passed through the Ring of Isengard.

"When I first laid eyes on that little brat," Saruman chortled, "I thought he might prove to be useful to me. I have been proven correct, even if not in the way I had expected. I am not sorry, however, for matters have turned out even better than I planned."

Several days later, Gandalf rode wearily up to Elrond's Hall. Dismounting, he went straight to Elrond's private chamber, where Elrond sat taking counsel with Erestor and Glorfindel. When Gandalf entered, all were struck by how worn he looked.

"Why, Mithrandir," exclaimed Elrond, trying to be jovial, "you look so very weary. Has Anomen proved to be so trying a charge!? But where is the little one? Has he already run off in search of Elladan and Elrohir?"

Gandalf did not speak. Elrond grew alarmed at his silence.

"Mithrandir, Anomen—"

"—is dead," said Gandalf bleakly.

All three Elves cried out in horror and astonishment.

"No," protested Erestor. "That cannot be!"

"But it is so," replied Gandalf despondently.

Glorfindel leaped to his feet, and his hand grasped the hilt of his sword.

"It is _not_ so," he growled. "It had better not _be_ so."

Now Elrond arose.

"My heart tells me it cannot be so," he said sadly. "I do not feel the gap in the fabric of life that I would have thought I would perceive if Anomen perished. Yet Mithrandir says it is so, and we must come to grips with his words. Sit down, Glorfindel. Mithrandir, if you can, tell us what happened. If your grief is too great, however, the tale can wait until another time."

"No," said Gandalf. "I would tell you now."

Quickly he told the tale, for it was as brief as Anomen's life had been in the eyes of these Elves. When he had finished, all sat silent for awhile. Elrond at last spoke.

"It is not your fault, Mithrandir. Not even a wizard can see all and rule all. Any wizard who came to believe so would be a fool and a menace."

"Believe me, Elrond," replied Gandalf, "I already knew that I was not omniscient and omnipotent, but if I had not, my failure in this instance would have proved it to me."

"Not a failure," said Elrond firmly, "for you also are not omnipresent—you could not always be by Anomen's side."

"My head tells me that you speak the truth," said Gandalf, "but my heart reproaches me."

Elrond shook his head.

"You may grieve, Mithrandir, as will we all, but do not add guilt to the burden you carry. It is already too heavy. Now go rest, my friend."

Gandalf arose but swayed with weariness. Glorfindel was instantly on his feet, but this time to support the steps of the wizard. Gandalf tried to wave him off, but Glorfindel insisted on helping him. He took firm hold of his elbow and led him from the room. Erestor arose likewise.

"Elrond, would you like me to summon Elladan and Elrohir?"

"Yes, Erestor, if you please."

A short time later the twins stood before their father, wondering why a grim-faced Erestor had fetched them.

"My sons," said Elrond gently, "Anomen is gone."

Elrohir could not stop the tears that sprang to his eyes.

"So he has chosen to remain at Isengard," he said mournfully.

Elrond hesitated.

"No, Elrohir, he has—he has passed away."

"Then he has gone to the West, where Nana dwells?" said Elladan in surprise.

"I am afraid not, Elladan. He has gone to the Halls of Mandos."

The twins stared blankly at their father. What he said made no sense to them.

"How could he be in the Halls of Mandos?" asked Elladan, confused.

"Because he has perished, Elladan. He fell into the swift waters of the Isen and was swept away."

"Those words are not true!" shouted Elrohir, suddenly stirred to passion. "You are wrong, Ada. Those words are not true!"

He turned and stormed from the chamber.

"Elladan," said Elrond gently. "Go after your brother. Stay with him, but do not make him speak unless he wishes to."

Numbly, Elladan turned to follow his twin, but Elrond called him back. Enfolding the elfling in his arms, he kissed him twice on the forehead.

"One of those kisses is for your brother. Give it to him when he is ready."

"May I have a third kiss, Ada?" Elladan said piteously. "One for Anomen—for his memory, I mean?"

"Of course," replied Elrond, kissing him a third time.

Elrohir had gone to the chamber that he shared with Elladan—the one that he had shared with Anomen as well. He sat on Anomen's bed and made no attempt to hide his tears.

"It's my fault!" cried Elrohir. "It's my fault! If I hadn't been so unkind, Anomen would never have wished to leave Imladris."

Elladan threw his arms around his twin.

"Elrohir, it's not your fault! Anomen didn't leave Imladris out of dislike for you but out of love for Mithrandir. Blame the Isen if you must, but do not blame yourself!"

But Elrohir would not allow himself to be comforted. At last he fell asleep sobbing in Elladan's arms. For a very long time the distraught little Elf continued to take great shuddering breaths, and all throughout the next day his eyes were swollen because of the many tears he had shed.

Late that day the elders reassembled to eat a subdued evening meal in Elrond's chamber. The twins did not attend. Erestor had gone to summon them, but found them where they slept huddled together on Anomen's bed. He decided against rousing them and went to the kitchen and fetched fruit, bread, and cheese and placed it at hand so that, if they woke during the night, they would have something to sup upon—if they were able to eat, of course, which Erestor doubted would be the case.

In Elrond's chamber, that elf-lord, in spite of his own grief, was again trying to convince Gandalf that he was not to blame for the death of the elfling, but the elf-lord was having no more success than Elladan had had with Elrohir.

"Mithrandir, you could not have foreseen such an accident."

"If I hadn't brought him to Orthanc, he would not have been standing on the banks of the Isen."

"That is true, but what is to say that he would not have fallen into the Bruinen? It, too, can be a fell river after a strong rain. Any river can be so—aye, even the gentle Baranduin of which you are so fond. You must not blame yourself so."

"I should not have left him there."

"Mithrandir, you could not have watched him at all times. Nor could I have. No one could have—not unless we had chosen to keep him under lock and key. And what if we had? He would have grown up someday and been unprepared for the perils that would have faced him. Like as not he would have escaped drowning in the Isen only to have been swept away by the Anduin."

"Unprepared for the perils that faced him?" said Gandalf bitterly. "He _was_ unprepared for the perils that faced him."

"Mithrandir," said Elrond, with a show of calmness that he did not feel, "no one can be prepared for all the perils that may be encountered—not you, not I."

At last, like Elrohir, Gandalf felt asleep on a settle in Elrond's chamber out of sheer bodily weariness. The elf-lord did not trouble to wake him but merely gently drew a cover over the wizard and withdrew to sleep in his sons' room. Seeing the twins asleep on Anomen's bed, he hesitated, but then somehow contrived to slip into the bed as well. Elrohir, without ever waking, unconsciously seized upon him, clutching a handful of his tunic tightly in his hand throughout the entire night.

As Gandalf had been riding through the gates of Rivendell with his sad news, Anomen was at last recovering enough to give Gwaihir an account of himself.

"My name is Anomen," he told the Wind-lord, "and I was visiting at Isengard. I went for a walk alongside the Isen, and I stepped on a loose stone. It shifted and threw me into the river."

"Isengard," said Gwaihir. "Very well. It shall be easy enough to return you there."

"But I don't want to go back to Isengard! Mithrandir was not there. I don't know where he is right now, but I _do_ know where Elrond is. Please, my Lord, can you not take me to Imladris?"

"That will mean crossing the Misty Mountains. I generally keep to the east of those peaks. However, you have mentioned Mithrandir. You are a friend of his, then?"

"Oh, yes! He meant to come back to Isengard for me, but if he came there and found me gone, he would go on to Imladris. I would much rather wait for him with Lord Elrond in Imladris than with Lord Saruman in Orthanc."

"Ah, yes. Saruman. Bit of a cold fish, isn't he, but not one I have any taste for."

Gwaihir chuckled at his own humor. He had a habit of doing that, and as he had a cruel, hooked beak and sharp talons, creatures were not inclined to gainsay him.

"Well," continued the Wind-lord, "Gandalf and I get along rather well, as his wit is as cutting as are my talons, a characteristic that has always recommended him to me. As you are his friend, tomorrow morning I will convey you over the mountains."

Although Anomen had recovered from his near-drowning, he was still rather weak, for he had not had a proper meal in several days. Gwaihir had brought him a salmon, but Anomen could not stomach raw fish. When it came time to depart, then, Gwaihir carefully picked him up in his talons because he feared the elfling would not otherwise be able to keep his grip. Anomen found it rather terrifying to be dangling far above the crags of the Misty Mountains, but he was eager to return to Rivendell and so made no complaint. Gwaihir flew with him to the top of the mountain that overlooked the valley of Imladris and deposited him there.

"You can make it from here, I trust. The thermals are not very favorable for me to descend any lower."

Anomen eagerly assured him that he could find his way from there. So anxious was he to return to his friends that he ran down the mountain at such a reckless pace that soon he was practically sliding.

Gandalf and the Elves were assembling in the garden at this time, for Elrond had decreed that this spot, so beloved of the elfling, was the most fitting place for a memorial ceremony. As they stood waiting for Elrond to commence, Glorfindel noticed a plume of dust arising from the side of the mountain. He cleared his throat.

"Lord Elrond, you will please pardon me. Yonder dust plume is likely nothing, but anything that looks like an avalanche must be investigated promptly to address any risk that may arise to our people, either from a natural rock fall or from one triggered by foes who may be attempting to find a way into the valley."

"Of course, Glorfindel," replied Elrond. No matter how great their sorrow, they could not set aside their responsibilities.

Glorfindel left the gathering and strode swiftly toward the dust plume. By then Anomen had lost his footing altogether and was tumbling over and over down the mountainside, rolling faster and faster. Glorfindel squinted up at the rapidly approaching ball of dust and made out an occasional hand or foot.

"Looks like someone is plunging down the slope," he said in alarm, and he broke into an uphill run, meaning to arrest the person's progress before he could do himself an injury. The Elves below saw Glorfindel scrambling up the slope toward the descending dust ball and wondered at what it might mean.

Anomen was small even for an elfling, but his momentum was such that when he reached Glorfindel, the balrog-slayer was quite bowled over. The astonished onlookers now saw _two_ balls of dust rolling down the mountainside, one smaller, one larger. They abandoned the garden and ran for the spot where they adjudged the balls might at last roll to a halt.

When they arrived there, they saw two dust-covered figures gasping upon the dirt. One, the larger one, they knew to be Glorfindel, but who was the smaller one? Someone seized a bucket of water from the well and flung it upon the little figure.

"Anomen!" shrieked Elrohir and Elladan. Elrond and Glorfindel were overjoyed but speechless. In his excitement, Elrond quite lost his eyebrows. Erestor broke into tears. As for Gandalf, he flung his arms around the elfling and squeezed so hard that Anomen yelped.

"I am _so_ glad!" the wizard kept babbling. "So glad!"

"Can't-bre-eathe!" Anomen gasped. In the end, Elrond practically had to pry Anomen out of Gandalf's arms.

That night there was a bit of a tug of war. The twins insisted that Anomen sleep in their bed chamber, but Gandalf insisted that Anomen sleep in the wizard's room, just as the elfling had done the first night of his arrival at Rivendell. Eventually, after listening to the twins and Gandalf quarrel as if they were _all_ elflings, Elrond stepped in and decreed that Anomen would sleep in the chamber he had been sharing with Elladan and Elrohir, but that Gandalf could tell him stories and remain with him until he fell asleep.

In fact, when Elrond stopped to check on the younglings before going to bed himself, he found Gandalf sound asleep on Anomen's bed. Anomen was curled up next to him, his head buried beneath the wizard's beard.

"Hmph!" snorted Elrond. "And that one pretends to be so fierce and gruff! Great lug of a wizard snoring away, taking up very nearly the entire bed. Poor Anomen will have a dreadful crick in his neck if he sleeps the night through in that cramped position. I'd best move him to my own room, where the bed is larger."

Elrond carried Anomen to his own chamber and tucked him in beside him. An hour later, however, something roused Elrond. He awoke to find Anomen gone. Back the elf lord went to the elflings' room to make sure that all was well. Elrohir, Elladan, and, yes, a still-snoring Gandalf, but no Anomen. Concerned, Elrond went to Glorfindel's chamber to ask him to help search for the elfling. To Elrond's surprise and amusement, there was Anomen, tucked in beside Glorfindel.

"There's another one pretends to be gruff and grim," he said to himself as he returned to his room by himself.

A little while later, Glorfindel sat bolt upright as he sensed a disturbance in his room. There was Erestor, who had just stumbled over a boot as he made for the door with a sleeping Anomen cradled in his arms.

"Here now," hissed Glorfindel. "What do you think you are doing!?"

"You always arise at the first hint of dawn," Erestor whispered back. "I thought it would be better if Anomen were bestowed in a chamber where he would not be disturbed so early in the morning."

"You mean _your_ chamber, I suppose."

"Well, yes. I do not usually arise until it is full dawn."

It is a marvel that Anomen's rest was unbroken that night as he was shifted from chamber to chamber. But perhaps as he passed from the arms of one Elf into the arms of another, he sensed how loved he was, and that awareness more than offset any jounces or bumps his body may have been subjected to. In any event, he did not wake until it was well past dawn, and when he did he was back in his own bed. (Gandalf had at last awakened and had gone off in great indignation to retrieve the elfling from Erestor—arousing the unfortunate Elrond and Glorfindel along the way, of course.) He was alone, as everyone else had gone to breakfast, for all agreed that he ought to be allowed to sleep as long as needful. So Anomen was very well rested, indeed.

While Anomen slept in that morning, Gandalf betook himself to the library, where he composed a missive to Saruman.

"You will be glad to know, my dear Saruman," wrote Gandalf, "that Anomen did not in fact perish in the Isen. Thanks be to the Valar, a good friend of mine, Gwaihir the Wind-lord, happened to be passing overhead. Spying our elfling floating face-down in the river, he swooped down and lifted Anomen up. He has now conveyed him safely to Imladris, where I have been but lately reunited with him."

"Wretched bird," snarled Saruman as he angrily perused Gandalf's letter. "I pray that he never again meddles in my affairs!"

Of course, Reader, Gwaihir would indeed 'meddle' in Saruman's affairs on at least one further occasion. As in the present instance, the Wind-lord was to do so quite inadvertently, but with results just as fortunate for Gandalf and his friends—amongst whom Anomen was still destined to be numbered, albeit, as we all know, as Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Mirkwood.


End file.
